


A Word of Caution

by ASCENSIONS



Series: Of Narcissism and Death [2]
Category: Confessions of Dorian Gray, The Picture of Dorian Gray - Oscar Wilde
Genre: And A Bunch Of Kisses, F/M, Featuring A Prophet Original Character, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:14:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26944990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ASCENSIONS/pseuds/ASCENSIONS
Summary: Paris, 2012.At the turn of the new year, Dorian’s current lover warns him of his fate with a cryptic message. Despite the lack of details in her words, a wave of unease flows through the room, vanquishing the scent of sex and sweat. Dorian gathers a sprinkle of comfort through denial and his lover’s body.
Relationships: Dorian Gray/Original Character(s)
Series: Of Narcissism and Death [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2065197
Kudos: 2





	A Word of Caution

**Author's Note:**

> This is a previously unpublished piece from 2015. Many edits were made, especially toward the end since I wasn’t happy with the original ending. This work foreshadows the end of the episode “Running Away With You.”
> 
> The quotation at the start is from Ocean Vuong’s book, On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous, with the sample as followed: “To be a monster is to be a hybrid signal, a lighthouse: both shelter and warning at once.”

_Both shelter and warning at once._

* * *

“ _J’taime,_ Dorian,” the flaxen-haired woman spoke as Dorian pressed his lips just above her plump breast. Warm, tender, inviting. Naked as the day she was born, the blonde shifted in the bed. Her honey-colored eyes drank the sight of her lover in, memorizing every centimeter of him. Tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear, she closed her eyes to savor the image of Dorian’s blissful face. “You are lovely… perfect even,” she added, her voice saccharine.

The sun fought to rise, for the stars of night’s reign kept its power. The night didn’t want the first day of the new year to claim the sky; thus the nature of winter: ravenous with a gnawing maw. Dorian, with darkness captured in his hair, turned his head to look out the window. The sun’s rays bled into the apartment room through the thin curtains. He kissed her again and again, peppering her flesh with affection. Her breasts were full in his palms, her nipples perked between his gentle teeth. Dorian’s lips climbed his lover’s porcelain skin, leaving a trail of wet marks. He planted a final peck to the woman’s lips, a hand leaving her breast to mold the curve of her jawline. “I can say the same to you, Madeleine.” 

Madeleine opened her eyes halfway, her pupils blown with delight and desire. She looped an arm around Dorian’s body. “Why don’t you?” she teased, returning a kiss to the corner of his lips. Madeleine’s gaze stole a glance of Paris’s weather when the curtains danced with the morning wind. Madeleine’s eyes flickered back to Dorian, watching him sit upright and the blanket covering the lower half of his nude body. “Dorian,” she purred, her tone softening, “I was only kidding. You don’t have to say it.” 

Dorian’s blue eyes darted to Madeleine. Madeleine looked older now, just a smidge. He could see wrinkles forming. Imperceptible by most, but not to him—never him. Such was a consequence of a soothsayer. He read her like a book; there were no hidden messages for him to decipher. She was the most bare woman he met. It was a relief, he supposed. It was getting cumbersome to keep himself guarded.

With a sigh, Dorian leaned back down to grace his darling with another kiss, this time on the cheek. “I know,” he spoke as Madeleine’s face seemed younger. If only kisses worked that way. He would shower her with them, each peck draining age and leaving the blonde at the prime of her life. “You’re divine. _Je t’adore._ ”

Madeleine sat up, her arm still wrapped around her lover. She urged him back up, and he followed her command. The slender woman closed the space between them, her optics pinned on the blank wall in front of them. Silence spilled into the bedroom, settling like sand on the ocean floor. “You’re cornered, Dorian,” Madeleine announced, her words slashing through the quietude. Her joshing timbre was absent, replaced with a somber and forlorn demeanor. 

“What do you mean?” Dorian inquired, turning his head to face Madeleine. He searched for some sort of answer on her visage but was unable to. Dorian couldn’t find an answer from the woman who held no secrets. Intriguing. He waited in anticipation.

“Something’s going to happen to you.” She pressed the topic on, and it became heftier than the silence she broke. Pulling her arm from Dorian’s body to entwine her hands together, she looked down at them. A sad, almost frightened, look. “I can sense it. Something bad. It won’t go well, dear.”

Dorian furrowed his brows as his lips found their way back to her skin. Locked below the curve of her jaw, his lips were soft and comforting. “It never goes well,” he replied. “Something always happens to me. I’m Dorian Gray.” The young man felt Madeleine’s muscles tense up. He cooed, “Maddie, trust me. I’ll be fine.”

The Parisian didn’t say anything. The silence reappeared. Like the last time, Madeleine ripped through the emptiness. Her tongue, if nothing else, was a weapon designed not only to thwart the silence, but herself and her partner. “No, you won’t. Not this time.” 

Dorian’s ears registered Madeleine’s doubt. What kind of man was he to defy a prophet’s warning? A fool. “ _Don’t_ test me.” Another sigh followed, this time of resignation. “Whatever happens, happens. Like I said, something always happens to me. I can handle it. You know what I’ve gone through, hm?” He earned a nod.

Another gap of silence. It was Dorian’s turn to fill the atmosphere with words again. There was something about her words that shook him to the core. Something unsettling. “I… think I should be heading back to London. _Désolé, chérie._ ” Such an abrupt announcement. Dorian pressed a quick kiss to Madeleine’s lips and hurried out of bed. He heard the woman yelp out the softest, most pitiful noise, aching at the sudden loss of contact. “I’ll visit next month. Valentine’s Day, maybe. Would you prefer if I come here or the shop?”

“Here, please,” Madeleine requested in a meek pitch, reluctance laced in her words. “Call first, will you?” All she was given was a nod. Her eyes glued to the man clothing himself in the attire that he tossed aside the night before, she added, “Happy New Year.” Madeleine watched Dorian button his shirt and slip into his shoes. Her eyes traveled up his body, catching sight of one imperfection. “Your hair’s a mess.”

With her long, blonde curls covering her bare chest, Madeleine abandoned the bed to press her body to Dorian’s. He felt colder now with his clothes on. Madeleine lifted a hand to fix the wandering strands. Her other hand grasped Dorian’s wrist and guided his hand between her warm, pining thighs. “ _Têtu,_ ” the word slipped under her breath as her thighs rubbed along his trapped hand.

Dorian chuckled as he caught on with Madeleine’s unspoken request. His forefinger and middle finger found their way into her bush-hidden entrance. His fingers slid deeper, and he heard a moan hang heavy in the air. Was it his? Or Madeleine’s? He wasn’t sure, but he was sure of his desire to please her. As his drenched, curved fingers slid back and forth into her, Dorian’s free hand rested on the small of Madeleine’s back.

Madeleine’s lips collided with Dorian’s, the top of her tongue sweeping over his bottom lip. A moan rumbled from the back of her throat as she felt her body fill up to the brim with lust. Her worry was washed away, replaced with yearning. It didn’t take long for her to reach her climax, her fluid coating Dorian’s expert fingers and her inner thighs. Breaking the kiss, Madeleine huffed and rested her head against his neck. “ _Prends soi de toi, mon chér._ Be careful.” Madeleine kept her hold on Dorian’s wrist, pulling his hand away from her lust-driven mess and lifting it to her mouth. She lapped up the remnants of her orgasm, all the while keeping her eyes on Dorian’s face.

A blush coated Dorian’s cheeks as Madeleine’s tongue danced upon his defiled fingers. “I will,” he managed to breathe out as his gaze blurred a bit. How he wanted to stay and ravage her. Dorian mustered up his composure and slipped his hand from Madeleine’s mouth. “Until February, then? I’ll see you very soon, Maddie.” He took a step back and started for the door.

“See you then,” Madeleine replied as she hid back under the sheets, draping her body with last night’s scent. She watched him vanish behind the door. The sun, still climbing its way to the highest point of the sky, filled the room where Dorian could not.

Distress soon crept its way back to Madeleine. It nestled in the gaps of her ribs, close to her heart as though to consume it. The rest of the day was bathed in dread.

Call it a coincidence, a hunch, or premonition; it mattered not, for what was to descend upon Dorian Gray was death. What would become of his mistress was a heart full of sorrow.


End file.
